Ways of Life
by Celene
Summary: I dunno if the rating's ok. There will be no slash, but some depressing scenes. This story takes part after Harry's fourth school year. Voldemort is back and interfering in the wizarding world. A few new characters will take part in this story and ... To
1. The Way things happen

This is my first fanfic and I hope you'll like it. I'm sorry for the many mistakes I made, I've reread this chapter again and again, and I hope won't be mad at me because of the faults left. So enjoy yourself and review a lot!!!  
  
(Disclaimer: I own none of the persons in this chapter. J. K. Rowling owns them. Only the story is mine.)  
  
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Ways of Life  
  
Chapter One  
  
The Way things happen  
  
...  
  
Pain.  
  
Incredible pain was everything he felt as he tottered down the street, leaving bloody spots on the pavement behind him.  
  
How could he have been so careless? Ridiculous.  
  
He almost laughed about his stupidity, but was taught better when hot pain raged through his whole body. As a matter of fact he wasn't sure where he was now, but this wasn't important at the moment. His mind was only focused on going on, but this ranged more difficult as he had imagined. He was barely conscious, every step was a torture, but he had to go on.  
  
They've done a good job at least.  
  
He smiled but was interrupted by a sharp side wind which sends a tremble through his already weakened body.  
  
Damn. He hasn't noticed how cold it was. He was getting too old for this. The headmaster should search someone else for this job as he has to do it anyway, because their little game flew up a few hours ago. But this was the last thing giving your worthless life a sense, as a little nasty voice inside the back of his head reminds him. It was right he thought exhausted. Great, the old greasy git wasn't strong enough anymore to win a little battle with his mind. How ridiculous.  
  
His footsteps became more and more ponderous as he reached a street called Privet Drive. An odd feeling crossed his mind. He has heard this name before but couldn't remember when, but this also wasn't important. Hot fever raged through his body and let him sink down on his knees.  
  
Oh, no. No, not yet. This wasn't the time to faint. He has to put himself together, but before knowing what happened to him, the world turned black.  
  
...  
  
Really a great day the boy-who-lived thought while returning home again. In the morning he had wasted his time with cutting the hedges in front of the house while Dudley was eating the biggest bowl of ice-cream ever seen on earth. And he'd thought Dudley couldn't become fatter, but he'd been wrong. Till the last horribly two weeks he had become this fat that he once got stucked in an armchair so that uncle Vernon had to call the fire brigade. They've spent the whole day on cutting Dudley out of it. This had been rather funny until the mask Harry had worn onto his face had divulged his malicious pleasure with the result that uncle Vernon had noticed it and he himself had spent the rest of the day with mowing the lawn, cutting the roses and removing the weed. After this incident Dudley had to live diet and this morning,... But that doesn't matter. Where has he stopped? Oh, yes. After cutting the hedges aunt Petunia had sent him to the supermarket to buy some things for the weekend. It had been very crowded, so that he had been late and missed the lunch. But instead of having a break he was sent to fetch some clothes from the dry cleaner's. But as if this wasn't enough, aunt Petunia had not given him enough money for paying them and uncle Vernon had to come. He'd been very angry with Harry, even when this wasn't his fault. And there he was on his way home, because uncle Vernon had not taken him back with him, hoping that they would be on their journey when he'd arrive at number four, when he noticed somebody breaking down a few houses apart from him. This shape. This couldn't be, could it?  
  
Without caring for his own tiredness, Harry hurried to, the now on the ground lying, man. And he'd been right.  
  
This couldn't be. What was the potions master doing at Privet Drive in such a bad state?  
  
As Harry could see the man was covered with cuts, bruises and burns.  
  
Who had done this to him?  
  
Harry was lost in his questions as a painful groan brought him back to the present.  
  
...  
  
As the potions master awakened he felt better and the comfortable feeling around him told him that was lying in a bed. His injuries had been fixed up and his whole body had been cleaned from the torments of the previous day. He opened his eyes a little bit just enough to see where he was. Careful not to let the persons that may be around him know that he was awake, but as he realized that he was alone, he opened them completely and shut them at the same moment, his eyes in agony of the light that had flood inside them one second before. And so he lay a few minutes without moving until he decided to open them again. This time he was more careful and waited until his eyes became used to the luminosity of the room. The next minutes he spent on examining the room for something that might tell him where he was, but all he found were a small cupboard and an old desk with some books onto it, which he recognized as some for studying magic. So he was at a witch's or a wizard's house at least. Without really thinking about it he decided to get up, but this wasn't a good idea as he realized after some painful moves. He was now lying on the floor after some pathetic sounds had escaped him, helpless as a child. Fantastic he thought bitterly after some tries to move which turned out to be impossible. And as if this wasn't enough, he heard the door cracking. How humiliating.  
  
...  
  
A few minutes before, the boy-who-lived was sitting in am armchair half asleep, thinking about the events of the previous days, when he'd found the potions master lying badly hurt on the cold stones of the pavement with hot fever raging through him, forcing him to breath agonized. His many broken rips and bones as well as his internal injuries had not made the situation better, with the result that he'd found himself shocked and confused, but also worried, and this feeling towards the hated man was strange to him, this man who'd hated Harry from his first day at Hogwarts and had humiliated him as often as the sun had risen from this day on and whose favourite game it was to find something to get him expelled. And now this man was lying in his bed, sleeping after three horrible and very strenuous nights which had really exhausted him, Harry thought while yawning widely and trying not to sink into a sleep as he has to look after his potions master in one or two hours to check his bandages which had been very bloody every time Harry had changed them. Now he knew that he would never be so careless again, giving Madame Pomfrey so much extra work, and yawned again.  
  
And at the same time he decided to refill his healing potions, self made not to say, which had been very difficult to brew, he heard some noise from above followed by some painful cries. Without thinking Harry stormed upstairs but on the halfway back downstairs and after refilling some bottles with the healing potion Harry hurried upstairs again and opened the door of his room with a soft cracking noise and was shocked again to see this man in such an agony. Immediately he knelt down beside the man trying to pull him into the bed again, which turned out to be very difficult as the potions master was totally cramped.  
  
...  
  
First he didn't felt anything else than pain and couldn't recognize who was helping him into the bed again. He was only focused on calming down his aching breath which seemed to be a hopeless battle until he felt some drops of liquid flowing down his throat, anaesthetizing him and let him sink into the pillows completely exhausted.  
  
After some moments his breath had calmed down so that he'd relaxed a little and the pain had almost vanished. And so he lay until the other broke the silence.  
  
"Are you feeling better sir?"  
  
First he'd thought that he couldn't believe his ears. They must have been wrong. He was hearing Potters voice and this was an absurd imagination, wasn't it?  
  
Why should he be at Potters house of all, he asked himself and opened his eyes again. Oh god, why had it to be Potter who'd found him? Was this the punishment for all his sins? This was the worst that could have happened to him, apart from the fact that Voldemorts servants could have found him and brought him back to the Nightmare Manor for some more torture sessions, but he has to answer something, and so he forced himself to say:  
  
"I'm alright Potter as you could see, stupid boy!"  
  
Ok, this wasn't an answer as he would have given under normal circumstances, but to hell this weren't normal circumstances. He hated himself for being this weak.  
  
"All I see is that you've calmed down a little, sir. You should drink something from this", the boy said offering him one off the small bottles he'd brought with him.  
  
Another time he could hardly believe his ears. How dare the boy to talk to him like that.  
  
"And what exactly is this supposed to be, impertinent boy?"  
  
"A healing potion I've made, ..."  
  
"You've brow this healing potion you say, so that's a wonder I'm still alive", the potions master interrupted him, sneering.  
  
Then there was a moment of silence until Harry found his speech again.  
  
"I've fixed your wand, sir. Its' damage is remedied", he said, handed it to the potions master, and without saying another word, he left the room, while the professor was staring after him with an expression of utter disbelief on his face.  
  
...  
  
This statement had hurt him deeply. As a matter of fact Harry had been very afraid of seeing the potions master die the last three days, and this feeling annoyed him. He'd done everything for him, haven't even slept all those days. He doesn't deserve to be treated in such a way.  
  
But you should have known this from the beginning a voice inside him corrected him. You should have known that he wouldn't change or thank you for helping him, even when you've hurt yourself while trying to brew all those potions. It's ridiculous to play the injured person. You should have let him d...  
  
No, shut up. Nobody deserves to die this way. Not even the most ungrateful person or your worst enemy. So be quiet.  
  
After winning this quarrel, Harry's doubts vanished. He was right to help him, and maybe... Another part of him wanted to believe that the professor might change his attitude towards him. Maybe.  
  
...  
  
He'd never expected the boy to be hurt like that. To be true he'd been very surprised when Harry had flown from him. One moment,. Since when I call the boy by his name? It was ludicrous but inside he felt something warmth for the boy. You're behaving like an idiot Severus, he told himself while observing his wand. It seemed to be totally repaired, but how could the boy have done this? He wasn't allowed to use magic outside the school. So how? If he'd used magic he'd gotten some trouble with the minister and they had sent somebody, and as he knew there was no other witch or wizard in this house apart from them. He must have used a repairing potion, but there was only one, and this one was dangerous to brew. Harry must have hurt himself...  
  
The next Severus felt were some pricks of conscience. To hell, he doesn't deserve someone caring this much for him. At least he could do the boy a favour and drink this stupid potion, he thought while letting it flow inside his mouth and gulping heavily. Suddenly he felt warm and better, but also very drowsy...  
  
~~~  
  
When he woke the next time it was dark outside and he noticed that his retarded wounds had been cleaned and bandaged. More pricks of conscience came into his mind with the result that he decided to get up. This time he'd no problems and get dressed easily.  
  
So the boy can sew, too, he thought while pulling his repaired robes on. And he'd been this ungrateful. He doesn't deserve anything at all. The sins he'd committed forbid him to deserve anything. He has no right to live a happy, normal life. No, everybody deserves it more than him. But he couldn't help himself. Sometimes he wished that his life would have gone another way so that he could be as every person, but he hated himself for wishing this even when Albus wanted him to become happy, Albus was wrong, he...  
  
What to hell?  
  
While thinking about himself the potions master had left the bedroom and walked downstairs to the living room, but had stopped at the door.  
  
No, no, no! Harry!  
  
...  
  
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I've done it. This was my first chapter and the second is following within the next days. I'm writing at the third now. Please be patient with me. And thank you for reading this one!!!  
  
Bye Celene 


	2. Prediction

Chapter Two  
  
Prediction  
  
...  
  
His thoughts were ringing noisily inside his head as he levitated Harry into the bedroom and placed him onto the bed, earning more groans of pain.  
  
To hell, he'd known that Harry must've hurt himself while brewing this damned potion. Why hasn't he reacted earlier?  
  
Damned...  
  
As he searched for any sign where the boy has hurt himself, he noticed that his left trouser leg was soaked with blood as were his left arm and stomach.  
  
My god...  
  
...  
  
A few minutes later three persons hurried towards number four, muttering quietly to each other in order not to arouse the attention of the curious neighbours, unnoticed from the two persons inside.  
  
"Look! The boy is wasting our money", said Aunt Petunia in her typical criticizing voice.  
  
"I see it, Petunia darling."  
  
"Mommy, haven't you told him to be out of my room?", Dudley complained as he noticed the light in almost every room of the house, but at the same moment he'd complained the light turned out magically and he saw a tall man wearing a cloak closing the curtains of his cousin's room.  
  
"Of course I have... Oh Vernon, there's somebody inside", shrieked Petunia.  
  
"Wait, I'll teach the boy not to let freaks like him inside our house", Uncle Vernon barked, stormed inside, slammed the trunks aside and tramped upstairs.  
  
...  
  
He was in, what seemed to be, a cell, hearing someone crying quietly. Curious he walked towards what sounded like a young woman and tried to identify her face in the dark, but he couldn't. Suddenly he heard many powerful explosions and some men shrieking and shouting, followed by a hollow, maniacal laughter which froze the blood in his veins. Then he didn't feel anything else than pain, on his forehead, in his whole body, with the result that his legs weakened under his body. It felt like someone tearing him into pieces. The quiet crying stopped abruptly and as he forced himself to look towards the door he saw three dementors hurrying inside and, oh god, towards the woman. He heard himself yelling at them, telling them to let her alone, but they didn't stop. He saw the woman struggle against them, desperately and helplessly and the next he noticed was a man waving his wand at them, "Expecto Patronum!", and then...  
  
...  
  
One minute before the potions master was hurrying through the whole house, fetching a bowl filled with water and a flannel from the kitchen, some bandages and a cauldron, after filling the rest of the healing potion in some bottles, from the bathroom and from the living-room some blankets, as there had none been in the other boys' room, and hurried back upstairs turning out the light with one wave of his wand.  
  
As he reached the door of Harry's room he heard the boy moaning followed by some cries and saw him struggle against his blanket, restless. Worried he placed everything aside, closed the curtains and knelt down beside the boy placing a wet flannel on his forehead, but without success. Harry was still struggling and didn't calm down.  
  
Suddenly the potions master heard a loud bang, telling him that the boy's relatives must've arrived, followed by the noise of someone very heavy tramping upstairs. With a hiss of anger Snape rose to his feet but at the same moment the door burst open, offering him a look at a very angry muggle who must've been his uncle. Still furious the potions master hissed at the disturbing man:  
  
"How dare you to make su...", but was interrupted by the uncle of the boy.  
  
"Get... out... of... my... house... you... freak... or... I... call... the... police."  
  
"You wanna call the police, how amusing", sneered the potions master, pointing his wand at the paling man. "I don't think so."  
  
An evil grin crossed his face.  
  
"As I've heard from the headmaster you're making Harry's life a hell and I think it's time for a little repayment, isn't it? Or am I wrong about that?"  
  
The evil grin still didn't vanish from his face, but grew wider, his eyes narrowing dangerously. Behind the now shaking muggle appeared his wife with Harry's cousin, grumbling.  
  
"Vernon, why haven't you thrown this freak out yet? I don't want filth like that in my hou..."  
  
As she looked over her husbands shoulder her voice died.  
  
"Good evening Madame. As you were so kind to call me filth I think there's something I can do for you, too", and after spoken this he waved his wand, muttering something under his breath and all turned to stone.  
  
"I think it is much better this way", he jeered turning his head towards Harry again, who stared back at him, stunned.  
  
...  
  
As Harry awoke from an ear splitting noise, he was completely shocked about what he saw. There they were. Two of the three most hated men in Harry's life, frowning, sneering and shouting at each other, and he found himself wondering whom he hated most. Before him Snape was standing, his despised potions master, jeering at his detested uncle who grew smaller and smaller, paling with every word said by Snape. It was a really funny scene and Harry was totally enjoying it. For the first time in his life he saw his uncle sheepish and petrified with fear. And as if this wasn't enough, the boy noticed his aunt appearing behind her husband, calling Snape names, he was sure, which wouldn't be unpunished. But the woman's expression as she saw the wizard grinning evilly and derisive at her was the best Harry had ever seen on earth and he was sure he'd never forget this moment in his whole life. Therefore Harry felt great sympathy towards the potions master, even after his ungrateful, mean behaviour, but simultaneous was really shocked about what came next. Behind the now at him looking man they stand, his relatives, stoned. Even if he'd tried, Harry could never have described his feelings at that moment, but as if nothing had happened Snape said something to him, Harry's ears could hear, but his mind could barely understand.  
  
...  
  
"How are you feeling?", Snape asked, worry in his voice, but when he noticed that Harry wasn't going to answer, he started cleaning his wounds, getting painful groans from the boy.  
  
"Why have you done this?", he heard the boy asking after a while, still bandaging his arm.  
  
Good question, Snape thought trying to find a reasonable answer for himself.  
  
"What do you mean? Me still being here or me making these annoying muggles become silent?"  
  
It was completely clear to him that the boy meant the last, but he wanted his true opinion of the first, too.  
  
"Both!", Harry answered simply.  
  
"To your information Potter, Dumbledore had killed me if he'd found out me letting you die here and besides this, no one is going to offend me without an appropriate reaction of mine, and to be true, this was exactly what was needed."  
  
Wonderful, Snape was really satisfied with his answer. He didn't have lied to the boy, but haven't told him the whole truth, either. He'd stayed because he'd really wanted to care for the boy, he confessed to himself at last, but it was easier and better for the boy to stay the old, selfish potions master he knew. It was better for him, too, Snape thought while trying to go on with bandaging.  
  
Damn, this looks terrible.  
  
He even wanted to clean the boy's wounds on his leg as his answer hit him hard.  
  
...  
  
"Great!", snapped Harry frowning at his teacher whose eyes flickered to his.  
  
That was exactly what he'd wanted to hear from the old, greasy and selfish git. Really great... And he'd hoped something could've changed. How stupid he was... This feeling pissed him off truly.  
  
Still frowning Harry noticed the man's sharp look.  
  
Oh, I'm sorry I've annoyed you and disturbed you at your work. I'll never do this again, promised..., he answered the reaction of Snape in his mind. Couldn't you've said that wanted to do this for your own will? You're really such a heartless bastard!  
  
Without having noticed, Harry had spoken the last sentence aloud.  
  
...  
  
"Thanks, Potter. That means a week detention, even if the term hasn't started yet", he snarled seeing the boy's protest, but that doesn't matter to him. He was deeply hurt. Could the boy be such an arrogant idiot? Really, he was like his father, interested in his feelings only. How he hated that man...  
  
But it's your fault that the boy has reacted this way. If you'd have told him the whole truth, then...  
  
What then, Severus snapped back to his mind. Do you think he'd liked me after telling him the true cause?  
  
It's your own fault then! You've treated the boy like his father has you. Is this the way you repay everything? To repay it to the son, 'cause you can't repay it to his father anymore. You can be proud of yourself, his mind sneered, and therefore Severus felt guilty again.  
  
It was right, even when he didn't like to confess that to himself. During the last four years he'd been horrible to the boy, trying to make himself feeling better by humiliating the boy in every way he could, even trying to get him expelled. He'd wanted to hurt the father by mistreating his son and with it satisfied himself. Yeah, Harry was right. He was a selfish, heartless bastard, but he couldn't say that to the boy. No, no way.  
  
As Severus had finished the quarrel with his mind, he noticed that Harry was barely conscious, but fighting to stay it, not willed to show weakness towards him. It was time to do something, but he didn't know what.  
  
Finally he was finished with fixing his injuries and therefore tried to force the boy to drink his own healing potion, but this ranged rather difficult as the boy wasn't willed to drink it.  
  
"Potter, don't be silly. Drink this blasted potion."  
  
But this didn't work. Why was the boy this stubborn? Ok, then he has to do it this way.  
  
"Drink it, or I'll make you tell me a few secrets I ever wanted to know. I think it'd be rather interesting to know who'd stolen the boom slang skin, for example", Severus sneered in his usual way, getting a frightened glance from the boy.  
  
"You wouldn't.!"  
  
"Be sure, I would and I will!"  
  
Then he drank the potion, finally.  
  
"Fine, good boy. This wasn't that difficult, was it?"  
  
~~~  
  
Several hours later Harry was struggling against his blanket again, speaking, moaning, begging during his sleep, while Snape was brewing a potion, listening to Harry and glancing over his shoulder, worried, praying that Harry would calm down within the next minutes, but the begging became louder.  
  
"No, don't. Please don't him, kill me instead... Please don't him... Nooo...!"  
  
Suddenly Harry jerked. Sitting in his bed he looked around him, frightened, while breathing heavily.  
  
It'd been a nightmare about Voldemort's rising, Severus was sure. The boy seemed to feel guilty for Diggory's death. But why? It wasn't his fault. There's nothing what can be done against the killing curse. Nothing, as he'd seen it by himself. Even the greatest wizards of the century have failed their lives fighting against it.  
  
When Harry noticed that there was only the potions master in the room apart from him, he calmed down and tried to rest, not willing to talk to Snape of whom he was sure that he'd heard him begging during the nightmare, but Severus' attention was focused on the silvery liquid inside the cauldron.  
  
It's ready, finally, he thought while touching its' surface with his wand and muttering something under his breath, producing a whirl.  
  
What he saw next held his attention completely.  
  
...  
  
Long time Harry was lying on his back, trying to sleep till he saw that Snapes' attentiveness was forced on something before him, noticing the sweet scent into the air. Suddenly the potions master jerked, turning round his heels, waving his wand, saying that they've to leave immediately, not willed to say something more in detail.  
  
"Where are your belongings?", he asked in a hurry, almost down the hall as he heard Harry's response, then at the next second upstairs again, levitating Harry's trunk behind him.  
  
"I've to talk to Dumbledore and I'm afraid that you've to accompany me to Hogwarts, 'cause it's impossible to stay behind at your own!"  
  
Harry himself was already at his feet, shaking violently. As Snape noticed Harry's helplessness, he hurried to his side supporting him downstairs and then they left Privet Drive.  
  
... 


End file.
